


Kilometers

by TomAyto10



Series: Indulgence, really.... [1]
Category: Hajime no Ippo | Fighting Spirit
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining, too much fluff for boxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5580041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomAyto10/pseuds/TomAyto10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then the kilometers shrink to nothing, as Ippo’s presence fills him from inside out, words breaking through the distance, and Sendo grins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kilometers

There are many reasons for their infuriating separation.

Their boxing careers, for one. The location of and loyalty to their gyms, and of course, distance, the kilometers that spanned seemingly endlessly between them.

Sendo knows of that, understands that very well, but that doesn’t mean he won’t complain about it.

Some days it angers him to the point of madness, boils his blood enough that it comes out in his spars, promising a violent beat down for all who enter the ring with him. Other days, he threatens to run to Tokyo on his own two feet, and has to be talked down by everyone in the gym. It’s a terrible, wicked separation, and Sendo has never been good with not getting what he wants, when he wants it.

But, even in the bitterness of the situation, there are some bright moments.

Sendo lays flat on his futon, clad down to his boxers in the cool moonlight, a phone pressed to his ear, shoulders free of all the tension and volatility he usually wears. The wire for the phone was taunt, threatening to pull the receiver off of his desk, but Sendo is focused on other things, much better, and worthwhile things.

Yes, in the middle of this horrid torture, he has found something he truly enjoys.

He loves talking to Ippo on the phone.

It was a random discovery, one he hadn't anticipated. Sendo's a talker, loves to spit words as much as he does throwing fists. But usually his phone conversations are mostly composed of intructions, challenges or information. Say what one needs to say, and hang up to continue on with training, fighting, life.

Things changed, as they have a tendency to do, with Ippo.

It was little things that impacted him the hardest. Things like the first exhale of breath as Ippo greets him, always to formal, always too breathless no matter their surroundings. In his mind’s eye he can see Ipoo bow his head, his smile tugging his lips up and round face glowing. It’s how Ippo’s voice dips into appreciation, into weight as he simply says his name, “Sendo-san,” as if he is delighted and surprised that Sendo wants to talk to him.

It makes Sendo miss him more, it makes him want him more.

Like now, his skin tingles hot even in the crisp air of the spring night under the even soft tones of Ippo's words. He can see him, if he closes his eyes and concentrates; slumped against the wall in the hallway next to the phone, shoulders slack in his pale blue pajamas, moonlight; the same moonlight that spills over Sendo's body, highlighting his eyelashes, the bright hazel of his eyes as he speaks.

“Sendo-san? Are you there?”

He wonders, sometimes aloud, much to his embarrassment, how someone can sound like a smile, the upward curve of lips, the warmth of an expression turned audible. It seems impossible, how his words seem to dig deep straight into the heart pounding in his chest, so much so that even hours after their farewell, the buzzing of his voice in his head keeps him awake with warmth.

“Ya.” he responds, his words sticking in his throat, and he clears it, blinking in the white light surrounding him. he had gone silent there for a moment, a hush where his thoughts attacked him, and want came up to strangle around neck. “I'm her’.”

“Mm” Ippo makes a noise something high and huffed.“I should let you go.”

It's too late for both of them, especially for Ippo, who has to get up early, train and work. Always doing something, Ippo, always moving forward.

The thought of Ippo doing roadwork, shadowboxing in the sunrise makes Sendo curl up on himself, fingers tightening into a fist.

“Tired of me, are ya?”

Ippo's response is predictable and he almost wants to join him in harmony.

“No! Of course not, Sendo-san.” It’s a whine, can almost be read as indignant, and Sendo has to smile. Then Ippo breathes in, deep, like preparing to go into a combination. Sendo tenses in anticipation. “I love talking to you.” Then, as Sendo suffers from heat, and ache and helpless speechlessness: “I miss you, Sendo-san.”

Sendo blinks, as things, emotions, feelings struggle and fight within him, clashing and brawling to take hold of him. There is thunderstruck embarrassment, exasperated defeat that once again, Ippo has rendered him to silence, and the sickening sweet pleasure of affection that fills his veins, dips into memories of kisses which leads to the burn of lust.

But, it’s the despairing ache, the reminder of the distance; of the hundreds kilometres between them, that wins out.

Ippo has gone silent again, Sendo can hear his breath, even and deep, and remembers the feel of it over his mouth, against his hair, as if it hasn’t been months since they were that close.

Sendo closes his eyes, curls tighter, and pushes away the heat filling his belly, and by the time he looks out into his moonlight filled room again, he has made a decision.

“I’m coming to see ya.”

He can hear the ruffle of clothes, the resulting sounds of Ippo sitting up in surprise, “Eh? Really!? When?”

Sendo shifts, careful to keep the phone close, pressed so tight its slick with sweat, like if he lets the phone fall away even a little, he’ll be losing this connection, this only connection with Ippo.

“Tomorrow.”

“Eh? What? But- wait; I thought you had a match in two weeks! You can’t-”

Sendo laughs. Ippo knows his schedule better than him probably. “I thought you missed me, Makunouchi.”

“I do!” Ippo replies, quick as a jab, “But that’s not the point, Sendo-san.”

“Spa’ with me then, if yer so worri’d. That’ll help.”

“Isn’t it too close to your match to be sparring.”

“Gettin’ cocky an’ thinkin’ you’ll hurt me, eh?”

Ippo sighs, Sendo knows that he’ll say something reasonable, something that might make him think about what's he’s planning for a second, so he interrupts. “I just wanna see ya. S’not a big deal.”

But it is a big deal, it’s starting to fester like a wound, its like a match that keeps going and going but Sendo can’t get a hit in. Those are the worst, when he struggles but can’t fight. He can’t fight this, this is reality, this is like vapors, like punching with all his amazing, destructive power, and hitting nothing but tendrils of smoke. Suddenly, speaking with Ippo on the phone is not enough, its wanting cool fresh mountain water and getting polluted swampy muck instead.

“Okay.” Ippo gives in, and Sendo can hear his smile, “Okay, Sendo-san. I want to see you too. I-” he stutters, blushes over the static filled silence, “-I can’t wait.”

Then, the kilometers shrink to nothing, as Ippo’s presence fills him from inside out, words breaking through the distance, and Sendo grins.

“I’ll see tomorrow, Sendo-san.”

“Yea." Sendo replies, hand closing to catch the warmth washing though him. "I’ll see ya’”

**Author's Note:**

> talk shipping to me @DipuCXOXO


End file.
